Victor O'Reilly - Rules of The Hunt
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- Название:Rules of The Hunt
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"It is time, gaijin," said Kei Namaka, "for you to die." He spoke rapidly, in Japanese, and Fitzduane felt his handcuffs and leg restraints being removed. He rose to his feet, rubbing his wrists to restore circulation.
"The only issue here, Fitzduane- san," said Kei, "concerns the manner of your death."
Fitzduane smiled. "I would prefer, Namaka- san, if you don't mind, to debate the timing."
There were four passengers in the Koancho helicopter besides the pilot, and one of them was Sergeant Oga, who was not at all sure what he was getting into.
The only thing he was certain of was that anything involving the gaijin Fitzduane- san, even after he was dead, was sure to be trouble. He had much the same feeling about Tanabu- san as he sat across from her. Even had he not harbored a deep suspicion about the games the security service got into, the Howa Type 89 5.56mm assault rifle she held resting on her knees would have given him serious cause for concern.
The folding-stock weapon was fitted with laser sight, sound suppressor, under-barrel 40mm grenade launcher, and hundred-round C-Mag. The U.S.-made C-Mag was an extremely compact, spring-loaded, plastic double-drum that fed rounds from each drum alternatively and provided over three times the capacity of a conventional magazine.
The combination of elements added up to the most vicious personal weapon he had yet encountered, and it did not look like the kind of thing you would carry on a routine investigation.
He leaned across the tiny cabin and spoke to Tanabu- san. The intercom would have been an easier way of overcoming the engine noise, but the fewer people who heard their discussion the better.
"Shouldn't we do this through channels, Tanabu- san?" he said. "This is really a job for a large force of kidotai. My men are not really trained for this sort of thing."
Chifune bent forward to meet him halfway. Supremely feminine as she was, and dressed in a tan linen suit with skirt ending well above the knee-line, she should, thought Oga, have appeared slightly ridiculous with all this firepower; but that was not the case. She handled her weapons system as if nothing were more natural.
He could smell her perfume as she moved close. Her complexion was flawless, her deep-brown eyes, flecked with gold, compelling. She was going to be a hard woman to resist. In fact, she had already proved that she was a hard woman to resist, or he would not be in this helicopter.
"Oga- san," Chifune said, "time is critical, and we do not have the evidence to get a large raid approved without hacking through the bureaucracy. We're following a suspicion based upon my knowledge of how the Namakas work and the one slim fact that Fitzduane- san 's beeper continued to function for five minutes after the explosion. Further, where we are going is a defense installation. To get approval to raid that would mean going right to the top, which would take forever and blow security. The Namakas, you must know, have friends in the highest places. At a certain level in the power structure, it is hard to know where loyalties lie. That is the reality of money politics in Japan today. There are those who will be very happy to see Fitzduane- san dead and the status quo preserved."
Oga gulped. The woman was making it worse. If this thing went wrong, he was risking not just his life but his career. He could imagine what his wife, a thoroughly practical woman, would say. Still, she was not here, and Tanabu- san very much was.
"As to your competence for this kind of operation, Sergeant- san ," said Chifune, "I know you are very highly thought of and that you were in the paratroops, just like Adachi- san, before you joined the police."
Oga nodded.
"And as to your men," continued Chifune, "I have the greatest confidence in the Tokyo MPD and I have no doubt they will do their duty with distinction."
Oga sighed. He had no change against this woman. Without being aware of the transition, he mentally switched from his police role to his previous airborne training. They were going in and they would do what had to be done, and that was that. The pieces could be picked up afterward.
He turned to his two detectives. He had had to leave his other men behind because of space limitations in the helicopter, but the men he had kept, Detectives Renako and Sakado, were rock-solid.
"Check your weapons, lads," he said. "Where we're going may be hot."
The sprawling industrial mass that was the Namaka Steel empire showed up on the skyline, and Chifune spoke an instruction to the pilot. Seconds later, the helicopter was speeding along at only a few feet above wave-top height, and Sergeant Oga was totally back into airborne mode and wondering why he had ever left. He loved this kind of shit.
"AIRBORNE!" he shouted.
"AIRBORNE!" repeated his men. Neither had seen military service, but if it was appropriate for the redoubtable Sergeant Oga, it was appropriate for them. Group solidarity was all important. And somehow it sounded just right.
Chifune smiled and made a punching gesture with her right hand. "All the way," she said.
"Fitzduane- san," said Kei, "I must tell you I regret you have to die."
"You are a brave man and an honorable man – but you must understand that I have no choice. We have an obligation to kill you. It is a matter of giri. And now it is also a matter of self-preservation. You know too much."
Fitzduane looked at each man in turn. Two yakuza stood against the dojo wall near where his personal belongings, including the Calico, lay. The other two stood on either side of Kei Namaka. Goto stood several paces behind him.
Fitzduane was about to remark on the insanity of the whole ghastly business, but then realized the futility of saying anything. Kei was following a different agenda. From his and the yakuza 's perspective, Fitzduane was an obstacle that must be cleared away. It was not personal; it was business. And so, if you accepted this warped logic, killing him in the most interesting and entertaining way also made sense.
"Fitzduane- san," said Kei. "You and I are both members of the Medieval Warrior's Society. We both share an interest in medieval weapons. We are both expert swordsmen. Accordingly, it seems appropriate to use this opportunity to resolve an old debate – the merits of the Japanese sword, the katana, against a Western equivalent. Katana versus rapier is what I have in mind, but I am open to suggestions."
Fitzduane went through the options. The obvious alternative to the rapier was the sabre, but that would be no contest. Katana and sabre were both primarily designed for cutting, but in this respect, in his opinion, the katana was incomparable. It was lighter, better balanced, could be manipulated faster, and had a vastly superior cutting edge.
No, any chance he had lay in the rapier. The rapier was designed to kill with the point. It was the type of weapon he had trained with. It was where he had the maximum advantage, and Kei must know this. The man was a murderer and a criminal, but he was not without some honor. Or perhaps honor was to the motivator but merely simple curiosity. Either way, it was academic. Motivation was no longer an issue. It was now down to the fundamentals: who would live, who would die.
"I also thought," said Kei, "that this would be an excellent opportunity to try out the ax you so kindly gave me. It is not an original medieval weapon, of course, but the workmanship is outstanding, so I am giving it honorary status."
He hefted the glittering weapon as he spoke and then swung it around in a circle. "If anyone is seriously wounded, they will be dispatched with this ax. If you kill my two champions, I shall fight you with the katana, but finish you with the ax. One way or another, this weapon will be blooded today. We shall field-test the quality of Irish workmanship."
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